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shredded papers should have been incinerated. The Penguin obviously was the master of Max’s refuse. And he looked like he might be the master of Max’s life.
    The Penguin leaned toward Max. “Want to greet any other body parts? Or stroll down memory lane with torn-up, kinky Polaroids? Failed urine tests? Remember, Max. You flush it, I flaunt it!”
    As cold as it was down here, Max found himself sweating. He did his best to smile.
    “You know what, Mr. Penguin, sir?” he asked in his best business voice. “I think perhaps I could help orchestrate a little welcome-home scenario for you. And once we’re both back home, perhaps we can scratch each other’s backs.”
    That seemed to please the birdman greatly. “You won’t regret this, Mr. Shreck.” The Penguin put out his hand.
    Max grabbed it and did his best to shake it heartily. But not only did The Penguin’s hand look pasty and peculiar, it was also as cold as death.
    The Penguin stepped back, but Max still held the hand. He looked down at what he held.
    It wasn’t The Penguin’s hand. It was Fred’s.
    The circus gang laughed as if this were the funniest thing in the world. Max gingerly let go of the hand and let it fall to the table.
    After a minute, Max laughed, too, like his life depended on it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

    M ax was back in the open, out in Gotham Plaza, just like he had been the day before. Except that everything had changed. The businessman smiled and waved to the crowd, and prayed that everything went according to plan.
    This time, there wasn’t much of a crowd beyond a few curiosity seekers. The smaller stores here had all been trashed. Even Shreck’s Department Store had sustained some damage. For now, the shoppers would have to go elsewhere. But in their place were all the TV news-cams with their crews and well-groomed on-the-spot reporters.
    And the Mayor was here as well. That was one thing you could depend on with His Honor the Mayor; he never missed a photo opportunity. And when Max suggested that the Mayor might bring his wife and infant son along so that he could make a point about family safety, His Honor had leapt at the suggestion. So it was that Max solemnly walked beside the Mayor and his family, all four of them caught in the glow of TV lights, while the Mayor talked at never-ending length to reporters, and Max waited to see if all this would work. They paused before the speaker’s platform.
    “I tell you this,” the Mayor was currently remarking in the most committed of tones, “not just as an official, but as a husband and father.” He raised a warning finger above his head to drive home his point. “Last night’s eruption of lawlessness will never happ—”
    An acrobat somersaulted from behind the ravaged Christmas tree, straight for the Mayor’s wife, snatching the baby from her arms with a single fluid motion. The circus performer leapt back onto the platform, and held the baby aloft as if he were accepting an award.
    “I’m not one for speeches,” he remarked with a broad grin, “so I’ll just say ‘Thanks!’ ”
    The Mayor lunged for the acrobat, who calmly kicked His Honor in the chest. His Honor crumpled as the acrobat jumped from the platform and raced through the astonished crowd until—
    He catapulted himself into an open manhole.
    Max pushed his way forward as the crowd gathered around the dark hole in the street. There was a moment of silence, then noise erupted from below.
    “Hey!” someone yelled from down below. “Oww! Get away! Ouch!” The cries of pain were accompanied by a heavy thumping sound, as if someone was being soundly thrashed.
    The crowd gasped as the acrobat, battered and bruised with clothing torn, dragged himself from the manhole and ran rather unsteadily—but still very quickly—away through the throng.
    No one thought to stop him. He no longer held the baby. And there was something else down in that manhole.
    “Stand back!” someone in the crowd yelled.
    “My God,